


Cats and Birds (last and first)

by Piqueniale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, But he is not a prick, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, I hope you like Bill tbh, I've been told this is apparently kind of funny?, Light Angst, Minor Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Mutual Pining, Ron and Hermione never happen, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Summer, Summer Vacation, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trying not to bash, Veela, Veela Mates, but really it is all books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piqueniale/pseuds/Piqueniale
Summary: Fleur meets her mate way too young. Neither is ready for it.It definitely could have gone better.Or, the Fleurmione through the books fic that I had been craving.No bashing towards any character intended. As canon-compliant as possible, but changes will be made.





	1. A Veela mates, a Witch weeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Most have told me my ships are way too 2000s.  
> Fuck that, a good ship is forever. *I will go down with this ship starts playing*

Fleur was not prepared. She was 16, still not of age, she was not supposed to meet her mate until much later. She did not even know what a mate was at that point, for Aphrodite's belt, so how was she supposed to act when they appeared out of nowhere? All she knew was that her heart was going crazy, and she had no control over it.

So when the beautiful brunette kid finally reached her, she did what she ought to survive. She threw Gabrielle's quaffle into the girl's face and ignored her question about their whereabouts: the child could only be a trickster. Something about her aura let her know she was benign, more than that in fact, but Fleur could not take her chances when she was the one taking care of her sister. There was something magical in the air, something like she had never felt, and so she ran. There was no stopping her.

* * *

From the moment Hermione stepped in France, she knew there was something special. Something big was waiting for her, and she would not wait to find out. If being Harry's friend had brought her anything, it was having a more careless curiosity, which drove her to _know_ no matter what. She had to know what was pulling her. She just had to.

But how to explain that to her muggle parents? Dentists who, despite not being exactly bigoted about it, still acted with the most evident apprehension to everything related to magic, to things they could never understand. She certainly could not tell them without raising more than a few ungranted, of that she was sure, alarms. So, despite her otherwise good judgment, she decided not to. She would keep it to herself and find out on her own. She would explore the city by herself whenever given the chance, and she would follow the magic to wherever it took her.

That is how Hermione Jean Granger found herself lost, in the middle of Marseille, while her parents were having a relaxing glass of wine by the sea. Every corner seemed to be ridiculously similar to the previous one, and her magic was going crazy without pointing her out in any direction beyond the overwhelming feeling of being close to something important. But what?

Hermione did not figure out, because the moment she tried to ask anyone about her location, she was violently hit with a ball. A ball that, after picked up, she came to realize was a quaffle.

The feeling of closeness quickly disappeared, and Hermione found herself weeping, sitting in a street somewhere where most did not understand her words. Her heart felt broken, she felt even more lonely than during her first weeks in Hogwarts, and she had no idea why.

When her parents found her like that, not much after, she was still not able to coherently explain anything. She had won and lost so much in a second, so much she could not yet comprehend.

* * *

Not too far away, a teen ran as fast as she could, her head down, her little sister in tow. If anyone had been around, they surely would have noticed the little feathers that had started to sprout from her body.

But no one was around. No one could have understood.

So no one knew. But Veelas understood.

A flock awakened.

An alpha'd mated.


	2. If I could give you the world (cup)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Fleur believes is lost comes back to haunt her.  
> Hermione is not big on Quidditch.  
> Bill is all in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, so any correction is certainly welcome. Also, I always write tipsy, so there is also that.

Fleur was not a big fan of Quidditch. She had flown, she had flown with her new flock not even two days ago. She knew what it was like to feel the real wind, the real power of the world at your feet. Whenever she had grabbed a broom since then, mostly to entertain Gabrielle, it had felt empty, fake. It was all a mere simulation in comparison to the real thing, to the actual flying. To teaching your flock to fly as you yourself learn, as you feel each sister like a different entity and still a part of a whole.

Ever since she had mated, ever since she had awoken the new dormant Veela generation and, with it, her responsibilities as natural leader had begun, she could no longer live as though things about her were not different, as if her Veela heritage meant nothing. She could feel it coursing through her veins, she could hear it in her mind, in every decision she took. She had never been more connected to it. She had never felt more bored, more afar, from the wizards her age. 

No one but a Veela, and her formal mate, could understand how deep the connection ran between a flock, how it felt to have such a huge amount of power, such an understanding of the world around them. No other magical entity could. No one. And, as such, she kept to her kind. They too could feel their alpha's despair over the loss of their mate, of whom she had barely caught a glimpse. They understood both the joy and the pain of her new status. Their awakening had granted her something huge, more than she could have ever asked for, but she had lost something in the way. Something she did not know was as basic for her soul as air. She now knew you could mourn someone you did not know you were meant to reach but never had really had.

Of course, the redheads in the tent next to her were less than empathetic to her need for space. So when her Veela suddenly told her to step outside and she stumbled right into them, quite literally, she was not exactly thrilled. Not until the handsome wizard in front of her took a step, and a gorgeous brunette was revealed to be just behind him.

Fleur swallowed. All in her had shut down.

* * *

Hermione hated Quidditch. She understood it was important to her friends, and she loved them, so she decided to go to the World Cup in spite of how much she disliked the sport. Honestly, she just did not understand why they could not simply play such a thing on the ground, the point system was all fucked up, but, beyond that, why did they have to play while flying? It was literally an awkward mix of muggle games, all of them played from the safety the ground offered. The only point in flying was the spectacularity of the acrobatics and the odds of being hurt being increased, but those two arguments did not make it worth it. The point system made sure nothing mattered but a small Golden Snitch (which, by the way, ridiculous name, in her opinion). It was all a big senseless spectacle.

Still, her friends’ company and the feeling of _needing_ to be there, plus, of course, her own curiosity over what appeared to be the most awaited magical event, made her decision of coming an easy one.

She arrived during the night, everything fitting into her enchanted trunk without much fuss. Ron had waved at her from his bed, possibly asleep, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had helped her accommodate herself. The twins could be heard loudly snoring in their bunk; Bill, a stranger to her really, had been granted his own room, and Harry slept just above Ginny's things: she seemed to be missing at the time, probably getting into some kind of trouble, if Ron's latest owl was anything to go by. Percy was staying with the minister's delegation, and Charlie had not been able to make it, his job taking most of his time. She was glad, honestly, she already had enough roommates and people to interrupt her studies without any extra help from people she did not really know, despite them being Ron's brothers.

Hermione went to bed and slept until next morning, waking up at sunrise to give her textbooks a quick review, before being promptly dragged out by the twins, who would not hear any of it when she started complaining.

"You need to see the world, Hermione, even a bookworm like you can have fun here! Come on, even Bill is coming!"

"There are so many nationalities, cultures..."

"...cute guys, and girls, whatever you are into."

"Just don't be into Ron."

"He once cut his private area hoping it would grow somehow, like hair."

"He had to go to St. Mungo's."

"Mum said he was very lucky he was young and it had been so easily repaired."

"I guess that has something to do with its size, certainly not a challenging one."

"Though, him getting fixed, but not getting _fixed_ , has certainly been bad for the world..."

"...His recovery surely did not help the species to evolve further."

"Although it did leave him with a funny shaped peni-"

"Okay, enough" Hermione cut in. "Enough information."

"But we were just getting to the best part!" Fred whined.

"If I go with you for a quick excursion, will you stop?"

The twins stared at each other, seriously considering it before they both smiled "Of course!"

She would take it.

* * *

 "I am Bill Weasley!" The eldest redhead, the one she had stumbled into, smiled, unaware of how he had interrupted her moment.

"Fleur." He kept smiling, despite her coldness, and she felt a bit guilty about her whole demeanor. It was not the boy's fault. "Delacour." She shook his extended hand, careful about not to stretch the moment for too long. Her newly-acquired thrall took quite a bit of energy to control, and she did not want the obviously infatuated man to become a puppy.

"I am Fred Weasley." A younger redhead waved, stepping right next to his brother. "Excuse my brother for his overeagerness. You see, when he was little, he did not get enough love from our parents, despite being the best we have, it is actually quite a prevalent issue for him, this desire to f-"

George stepped in, obviously amused by his twin antics. "George. I am the better looking Weasley." All cockiness and bravado at first glance, but when Fleur stared into his eyes, she saw nothing but joy, and for that she was grateful. Both his twin and him seemed to be too strong-willed to be affected by her blood in a very noticeable manner. Bill was another story, but she did not believe him to be too relevant, let alone dangerous. No, the only important being in that troupe was the one that had kept quiet, the one she was almost certain her Veela screamed for.

"And you, ma c-my f'iend?" Fleur stopped herself on time.

The girl lifted her head, staring right into the blonde's eyes. "Hermione."

"Wisely as well?"

"It is Weasley." She corrected, without thinking. "But no, Granger."

"Oui. I can see."

And Hermione saw something there, as well. "Have we met before?"

"I-I..." Fleur was unsure of how to break it to her. There is no easy way to tell someone you once hit them with a ball and ran.

"You." _Merde._ "I know you! You threw me a quaffle for no reason!"

That would not do. "The'e was a 'eason!"

"What could have possibly compelled you to throw a bloody hard rock quaffle to my face?!?"

"The'e was a wasp." Fleur knew it was a mistake from the moment the words left her mouth.

"A wasp." Hermione Granger stared back at her, making it painfully obvious she did not believer her words for a second.

"Yes, a wasp." It was too late to back down.

The brunette huffed, "unbelievable."

She promptly left, without saying goodbye, the twins shrugging before following her. Bill drooling too much to acknowledge anything.

"You' brothegs a'e gone." Fleur pointed out.

He quickly snapped out of it, "oh, yes, I should go."

But he did not.

"Well..?"

"I just... Maybe we will see each other again sometime?"

He looked so hopeful, and knowing such a chance was minimal, the french lady could not bring herself to outright reject him, despite her veela's cry to do so.

"Maybe."

He smiled, like a child in a candy shop, all the stars shining in his eyes. "I will hold you to that."

She returned his smile, he did not seem all that bad. "Go."

And he did.

* * *

 When Harry and Ron woke up, breakfast was mostly served. The twins sat at the table, arranging their beans into obscene and simplistic figures while laughing, and Bill in a corner, coffee resting on the counter as he finished flipping the last batch of french toasts. It was a rather endearing picture, were it not for Hermione violently stabbing her toast while muttering insults that could be understood on very few occasions. "Rude" and "arrogant" seemed to be the most repetitive ones.

"What's up with her?" Ron asked his friend.

The boy who lived shrugged, taking his place at the table.

It was probably just something silly, he guessed.

 

He was horribly mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving is not scary. Loving is wonderful. Fear is the only thing that can effectively end a love story, and it most often than not accompanies every step we take, to a greater or lesser extent. Do not let it taint what it tries to surround.


	3. Bloody french beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and her friends finally get back to Hogwarts. They soon discover they will not be alone.  
> Fleur has yet another chance.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4th year, first part. Warning about my finals still being my main concern, the chapters being longer, and, therefore, writing time might vary. I sincerely encourage you to subscribe to avoid missing anything.
> 
> Also, note that I have finally decided to make Hogwarts the only mixed school of the three, as in the films instead of the books: it saved me a lot of time by not having to create more explanations. It was otherwise a pain in the ass to create the selection process so that the flock + Veela-descendant males (who would not have been actual veela) + regular students would go. Plus, the status quo between schools/students and views on veela by the wizarding community would have been much more complex and, honestly, that is certainly not what this fic is about. Although I will admit to it being an interesting topic of discussion, but all fictional worlds' lore is.  
> The fic is now supposed to be 12 chapters long, instead of 10, as otherwise fourth year would have been a way-too-long monstrosity. 
> 
> Still with me? Good. Here we go!

Fleur spent the rest of the World Cup looking, fruitlessly for her mate. Whenever she managed to get the smallest glimpse of wild brown hair, it would disappear just as fast as it had come. Furthermore, her Veela's plan of waiting for the girl outside her tent seemed to be as stalkerish as it could get, and Fleur quickly dismissed it, much to her own annoyance. It seemed as if Hermione Granger had never even existed. It was torture, but even more so was giving up after the World Cup incident, as everyone had left way too quickly. Fleur had no choice but go back to France, and work with what she had: a name.

The moment she mentioned it to her  _mère_ , Apolline's eyes lit up in recognition. The older woman told her daughter as much as she knew, and the quarter-veela absorbed it all.

Hermione was a smart girl, one of the top students in Hogwarts, frequently called "the smartest witch of her age". She had been in the papers several times, especially regarding her friendship with the famous Harry Potter, with whom she happened to have partaken in several adventures. During her first year, she had been one of the students to surpass all of Hogwarts' defenses especially designed to protect the philosopher's stone; during her second year had figured out what Slytherin's beast was, and where the chamber was located (bollocks that such a thing would ever inhibit a school, in the french's opinion, but whatever, that was beside the point), and there were rumors of her successfully tricking the British Ministry and saving a hippogriff in the process, although they had never been able to prove anything, which made it even more badass.

Everything she could infer about the witch seemed to make Fleur's heart soar. There was not much information, but still, the proud veela in her had made it her duty to push themselves to the limit, to learn about what her body could and could not do, how to be in harmony with it, and hence control her thrall and feathers. She trained day after day, even when the school year began again, she was frequently caught sneaking during nighttime to the forest, her flock more often than not following her. The blonde had one mission and one mission only: be worthy of her mate. The next time they met, she would not be such a helpless being. She would make it count.

Soon her efforts paid off, absolutely every single member of her flock had been chosen to travel to the castle and participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which, luckily for the alpha, was to be held in Hogwarts.

It pained her to leave France and her beloved academy, but she knew it was yet another chance the destiny had given her. She was going to win. She was destined to.

-

Fleur was doomed. There was no way out of the ridiculous dance that Madame Maxime had imposed on them if they truly wanted to go all together. Fleur knew that, as recognized alpha and head girl, it was her call to make, but she felt as though she held no real power. The conditions to bring their younger still-asleep flock were painfully clear: whoever was chosen (although no one dared hope to get picked when Fleur Delacour herself was entering her name) had to fight till their last breath if it came to it, and the veela would basically be used as her headmistress pleased, starting by one dumb presentation dance.

It was obvious to her that there was no negotiating, and that Maxime would rather send a bunch of mediocre wizards than let a student beat her in any argument, no matter how small said victory was. But if Fleur caved, her new position as alpha could take a big hit. There was only one choice: pretending to support the ridiculous dance and try to discourage any other similar plans. She had to sell it to the girls in such a way that not only would they agree to it, but they would see it as Fleur's own clever idea. Maybe presenting it as a way to express the pride that their heritage bestowed upon them? Some sort of bonding activity to celebrate their new abilities?

Merlin, what would Hermione think?

* * *

Hermione was in a foul mood.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming was fine. What was not so great was the deathwish tournament, nor being taught the unforgivable curses beyond theory. She found it disgusting and, as hard as she tried, she could not get poor Neville out of his head. Considering he was a pureblood (ugh, again, Wizards really needed new names for almost everything), she could guess his family might have lost someone to the _cruiciatus_ curse during the first War.

So yeah, Hermione was not thrilled about her day, but considering the age limit set and the absence of the quidditch league, she hoped for a quiet year. There would be enough things going on for Ron, Harry and her to keep themselves busy without any wild goose-chase. She would finally get around to summarising Hogwarts: a HIstory, and the boys would finally have enough time to actually do their classwork, and they would all get great marks, and S.P.E.W. would soar and become a beacon of hope for house elves everywhere, and...

“Nearly six,” said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. “How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?”

“I doubt it,” said Hermione.

“How, then? Broomsticks?” Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

“I don't think so… Not from that far away.…”

“A Portkey?” Ron suggested. “Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?”

“You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?” said Hermione impatiently.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual.  _They better hurry up_ , the gryffindor girl thought,  _I am so cold, and for what?_

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

“It's a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

“Don't be stupid…it's a flying house!” said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer.…As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

A giant woman stepped out of the carriage. So large she was that even Dumbledore, a rather tall man himself, looked short next to her, barely having to bend down to kiss her hand.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dort,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I 'ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About two dozen girls had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. In front of them stood a blonde that Hermione immediately recognized as the same rude girl who had never actually apologized to her, choosing instead to make up a ridiculous excuse.  _Fantastic! Just bloody freaking great._

The girl, as if noticing the angry stare, turned towards Hermione, all blue eyes and a smile attempt that really looked more like a grimace due to her constant shivering.

Hermione was having none of it. She knew the girl to be this proud being, and she did not trust her one bit. The gorgeous french woman had been nothing but rude to her and, therefore, that's all she would ever get in return. She who sows the wind shall reap the whirlwind, as her mum would say.

* * *

 To say Fleur was disappointed would be an understatement. The moment her eyes met the brunette's, the other girl had frowned and looked the other way.

As they were lead towards the Great Hall, she kept planning, and discarding, different strategies to get closer to the lioness. She mentally cursed when she realized they had sat at the Ravenclaw table, with Gryffindor so close to them and yet too far for her intentions to go undetected.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

Fleur, still clutching a muffler around her head, gave what was unmistakably a laugh. Comfortable? Enjoyable? She was so nervous her stomach threatened to empty itself in front of everyone any minute now.

“No one's making you stay!” Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

Things were definitely not going according to plan. But then, Fleur's plans had never developed beyond: getting close to Hermione, get to know her, see what happens from there.

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

Fleur could not manage to swallow a single bite. Between her nerves and the absolute repugnancy english cuisine provoked on her, she just was not able to. Her schoolmates seemed to be having similar issues, with most acting reluctant towards the meal in front of them. It was finally Gabrielle the first brave young lady who grabbed a bit of everything and proceeded to gulf it down.

 _"You act like you haven't eaten in weeks."_ The alpha chastised, before turning addressing her flock.  _"Pace yourselves, don't act like stray dogs, but do eat something. Our hosts have been kind enough to allow us full access to all the castle, so let's not give them anything to regret."_

The flock stared with uncertainty at the food, but after Élodie, Fleur's beta, reached for the Bouillabaisse in a show of support, everyone proceeded to grab something. To everyone's surprise, the food was actually excellent by british standards and they found themselves enjoying it, even if it was, just as Fleur had suspected, quite heavy on their stomachs.

"Fleur."

"Mhm?" The alpha asked, bringing her attention back to her little sister.

" _We've run out of Bouillabaisse, could you go and get some more?_ " Gabrielle inquired, all puppy eyes, knowing Fleur was weak when it came to her sister.

_"Can't you ask someone a bit further to pass some on?"_

_"But that would not be enough!"_ Gabrielle answered, fake enragement evident in her face, " _We are french, we are hungry, we need Bouillabaisse to survive. You're alpha, it is your job to provide."_

Even if the girl was half mocking her, Fleur did take notice that the Ravenclaw table had almost run out of all french dishes due to their guests. With a sigh, she turned around, and saw Hermione not too far away.

" _I'll go._ " Élodie offered.

The flock leader shook her head,  _"no, don't worry. Plus, I know just who to ask for a bit."_

* * *

 Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

“Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?” Harry called.

“Thrivin',” Hagrid called back happily.

“Yeah, I'll just bet they are,” said Ron quietly. “Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers.”

At that moment, a voice said, “Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?”

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech, the quaffle-thrower, Fleur. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. Her large, deep blue eyes, were aimed directly at Hermione, and her very white, even teeth formed the most gorgeous smile any of them had ever seen. Hermione was both starstruck and filled with absolute loathing: it was unfair such a rude, selfish, proud and, probably, airhead was so beautiful. 

Ron, on the other hand, went purple. He stared up at Fleur, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

“Yeah, have it,” said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

“You 'ave finished wiz it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah, it was excellent.”

Hermione wanted to slap him harder than she had punched Malfoy not even a year before. The prick had the nerve to make fun of her for not only liking it, but also knowing its name, and then when an admittedly pretty lass came in, he suddenly adored it. And not only that, but bloody hell! Could he not pick another of the Beauxbatons lot to pin after? But no, he had to go after the only one Hermione knew of the whole freaking school.

The other girl, aware of the tension in the air, picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

“She's a veela!” he said hoarsely to Harry.

“Of course she isn't!” said Hermione tartly. “I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!”

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many students' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron. And even if she would never admit it, Hermione had been one of them for a couple of seconds.

But she was not to blame. The bloody french beauty was. She had eyes, it was only natural.

“I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!” said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. “They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!”

"Shut up! For god's sake, Ron!"

"I think they make them okay at Hogwarts," chipped in Harry, a far away look in his eyes.

"You both, clean your drool! You look like neanderthals, turning girls into their physique and nothing else! You ought to be ashamed!" Hermione was getting angrier by the moment.

"Whatever." Ron answered, his face still dirty from all the food he had managed to ingest in such a small amount of time.

Harry, for what is worth, looked appropriately embarrassed over his observation.

* * *

 “Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

Fleur buzzed with anticipation, she was extremely sure. She had something to win beyond galleons, and nothing was going to stop her.

-

Hermione was nowhere to be seen when the flock and their alpha entered their names.

An almost unexplainable sadness took over Fleur's heart when she realized.

* * *

 Hermione grinned, holding her S.P.E.W. badges as she rushed back to the Great Hall.

She never noticed Fleur's eyes discreetly looking for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has given any kind of feedback (comments, kudos, corrections...). You're all very kind. :)  
> In a lighter note, I also want to thank my drunk self for creating a detailed game plan for the whole fic. My sober me would never have the discipline to do anything of the sort.


	4. Between us, a fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The champions are chosen, breaking all of Hermione's schemes in the process, and destroying Fleur's plan.  
> First task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My time to write has been greatly reduced, as explained. However, rest assured: this fic is not going to take too long.  
> Oh, and now it is 13 chapters, this one was way too long, so Yule Ball will have a short one instead of being featured in this one.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had finally gone to visit Hagrid, Hermione insisting that, as a half-giant, he would be interested in S.P.E.W.

It did not go according to plan, and she felt defeated. So, defeated, in fact, that they were about to leave when a truly horrible smell reached their nostrils. Coughing, Ron said, “Hagrid, what's that?”

“Eh?” said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. “Don' yeh like it?”

“Is that aftershave?” said Hermione in a slightly choked voice.

“Er - eau de cologne,” Hagrid muttered. He was blushing. “Maybe it's a bit much,” he said gruffly. “I'll go take it off, hang on…” He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.

“Eau de cologne?” said Hermione in amazement. “Hagrid?”

“And what's with the hair and the suit?” said Harry in an undertone.

“Look!” said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the window. Hagrid had just straightened up and turned 'round. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Getting to their feet very cautiously, so that Hagrid wouldn't spot them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione peered through the window and saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast too. They couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression.

“He's going up to the castle with her!” said Hermione indignantly. “I thought he was waiting for us!”

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides. Fleur seemed to be struggling with the task, her pride, greater than that of her mates, had made her keep her formal shoes on, which were definitely not adequate for walking through the scottish terrain, but she still seemed set on leading the troop, for whatever reason. A small carbon copy of her walked around with her feet bare, and, standing next to Fleur, started blowing at the quarter-veela with her mouth, as if daring her to fall down. Fleur did not even look at the girl as she performed a levitation charm, lifting the kid off the ground, and effectively taking her into the castle as if she were nothing but a balloon the older girl had bought.

Hermione felt a pang of amusement at the sight, and she could not help her smile.

* * *

“The champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Fleur barely registered the reactions. She was not interested in her opponents, only in herself. If she was chosen, winning was up to her. Counting on the other two champions to be a disaster was foolish. No, the only certainty she could ever have depended on her own abilities.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

Relief flooded her senses, the few feathers that had sprouted from her back quickly hiding again. A couple of the still-asleep Veelas seemed disappointed, probably hoping for their older siblings to be chosen. However, her flock had her back, she could see it in all of their faces, in the barely concealed excitement, and for that she was glad.

The blonde got up, and gracefully marched into the side chamber, her only acknowledgement of what had happened being a quick glare into Gabby's direction, as if to warn her to behave in the older girl's absence, and a look in Hermione's direction, who stared right back at her, curiosity and surprised painted across her face. Fleur felt pretty proud of herself. She had her chance.

* * *

To say Hermione was surprised was an understatement. The Goblet, as a magical sentient object, could see their inner strengths and weaknesses, so why pick Fleur? Surely she had to be an airhead, a proud rude french nuisance. That was all she was, right? Then, how had this happened?

Hermione reasoned it might have been her Veela blood, surely it must, as much as it pained her to admit Ron might have been right this once. But then... Did not all the french delegation have creature blood? From the small details she had observed, and although Fleur did turn more heads than any other, the students' relationship with each other seemed to go far beyond that of schoolmates, with many of them calling each other _sœur,_ which meant sister. Funnily enough, she had not heard anyone refer to Fleur as that, but considering who she guessed was her little sister was also known as one, the odds of all of them being Veela were pretty good.

And yet... Why Fleur? She had been told all of Beauxbatons had participated, throwing their names in after a dance of some sort. So why her? Most people did look up to her, but she assumed it was due to her looks and nothing else, being too aware herself of how intelligence was not usually a popular trait. But the goblet would not get into popularity contests, the goblet would always choose those with a better chance, with greater wits and bravest hearts, so why Fleur Delacour? Was it possible that Hermione had m- No, Hermione could not be wrong about her. There had to be some sort of other explanation. She would go into the library and read about it, even ask Dumbledore if it was necessary, she would learn everything about the goblet of fire and finally understand what could h-

"Harry Potter."

A deafening silence took over the Great Hall, the other three champions forgotten.

“I didn't put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn't.”

Both Hermione and Ron stared just as blankly back.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. “Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

“Go on,” Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Never a quiet easy year in Hogwarts. Never.

* * *

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

“What is it?” she said. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

She thought he had come to deliver a message. He just stood there.

There was a sound of scurrying feet, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen…lady,” he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. “May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?”

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, could not believe her bloody luck. It could not be, it simply could not be. She tossed her hair, nervously smiling, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

“But evidently zair 'as been a mistake,” she said contemptuously to Bagman. “'E cannot compete. 'E is too young.”

 _He is too close to her, nothing I could do would matter if he is there. Please, no._ Fleur wanted to shout, hurt to her core, seeing her dreams and hopes vanish once again.

“Well…it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet…I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage.…It's down in the rules, you're obliged…Harry will just have to do the best he -”

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. The buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall could be heard before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

_Do something! Someone do something!_

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled. “What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

_Thank Goddess._

“I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?” He gave a short and nasty laugh.

“ _C'est_ impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. “'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

“It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff,” said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. “Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -”

“Thank you, Severus,” said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair. Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asked calmly.

“No,” said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely.

Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

“No,” said Harry vehemently.

“Ah, but of course 'e is lying!” cried Madame Maxime.

Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

Fleur desperately wanted to thank her headmistress for her help, but she could see truth in the young boy.  _Just my luck_ , she bitterly thought.

Whatever happened next, it mattered little to Fleur. She would compete and do her best, mainly because she ought to, but all Hermione would see was either her defeating her friend, and hate her more for it, or her friend defeating her, which would leave Fleur as a weakling in front of everyone, including her mate and her flock.

The french girl decided to cut loses, and, as much as her Veela kept screaming in pain, telling her not to... She gave up trying to prove anything to Hermione. She had foolishly thought everything around them was pushing them together, but now she could see it was wrong. She had other responsibilities.

* * *

Hermione barely had time to herself. Her days had been spent finishing her class projects, mediating between Ron and Harry and helping the later prepare for whatever the first task might challenge him with.

But, sometimes, in the middle of the night, she wondered about the Beauxbatons champion. The brunette could admit to her being wrong, even if it did take her a while to do so. Her research had always lead her to the same conclusion over and over again: Fleur was surely apt, Fleur had to be the best shot Beauxbatons had.

Hermione found herself allowing her eyes to wander in the Great Hall during meal times, but Fleur was never there. She understood seventh years had a different schedule, but everyone was always present at dinner, except for her. Even Harry, who kept getting dirty looks from everyone, showed his face there every evening. But Fleur, the french girl she had met again, in spite of the odds, several times, was elusive as can be.

In a weird way, she missed her stupid smug face. Not that she would ever admit to it.

-

A couple of days before the first task, Hermione decided to take profit of one of the last warm days of the year by reading by the lake, which offered the bonus of escaping Harry and Ron's silly feud. She was well-immersed in it when she finally saw Fleur again. She looked definitely pissed off, her facial features almost animalistic as she walked towards her little sister, who was running around with a rat on her head.

" _Gabrielle!_ " She shouted, " _give him back!"_

 _"_ _Jamais!"_

Hermione did not need to know much french to understand what was going on.

Suddenly, the youngest veela ran towards the brunette.

"'Ere," she said, leaving the poor squeaking rat on Hermione's opened book, who did not even have time to protest before the kid ran towards the lake, jumping in without a second thought, clothes still on. Even the giant squid seemed to be in shock, as all it did was descend into the depths once more.

Fleur ran towards the shore, staring at her swimming sister in disbelief.

_"What have you done?!?!"_

_"Come and find out!"_ Gabrielle laughed, wildly splashing water everywhere, " _or is the oh, great, great alpha afraid of a little water?"_

That seemed to do it for the champion, who quickly jumped inside, a snarl escaping her, but before water could touch her, wings suddenly emerged from her back. She glided across the lake, easily reaching her younger sister, who as fast as lightning dove. Still, it was not enough, and her sister descended and grabbed her by her ankle before pushing both of them up into the sky.

Screams and pleads for mercy could be heard even from Hermione's position, who was both scared and impressed by Fleur's abilities. She could see why the goblet might have thought Veelas to be worthy opponents. Still, she could bet something else had also been at play, otherwise, any other veela would have done.

Just as the gryffindor girl was considering getting Maxime, the girls landed, both wet, Fleur's uniform shredded in the back.

Gabrielle ran towards Hermione, " _zanks,"_ she said with a heavy accent, grabbing back the little rat before she took it to Fleur, who looked thoroughly relieved, as did the small animal.  _"He is fine. See?"_

 _"Never do that again."_ she told her sister, nodding in acknowledgment towards the brunette before walking away, the familiar on her shoulder, cuddling against her neck.

Hermione went back to reading, small pawprints ruining the book's before unblemished state. She sighed, resigned.

* * *

Fleur was well-aware of how the press manipulates everything.

_'Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.'_

She knew it was a lie, she needed to focus on the dragons. Only the dragons mattered.

_'Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts.'_

Fleur knew about Krum's frequent visits to the library, as well.

_'Hermione has at last found love at Hogwarts. With others.'_

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool, determined to avoid eye-contact with the rest of champions. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry awkwardly returned.

_It should not matter. It does not matter. I gave up. Hermione can do as she pleases, I was never in a position where I could request anything out of her._

“Ladies first,” Bagman said, offering the purple silk sack to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck, and Fleur felt grateful for both her choice and Madame Maxime's heads-up.

Krum pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck.

Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?”

“Er…yes,” said Harry blankly.

They exited the tent, and Fleur, Viktor and Krum were left inside, adrenaline through the roof. The first whistle blew, and Fleur felt her stomach turn. Both her and Krum stared at Cedric, who looked back at them, gulping once before nodding towards no one in particular, stepping outside.

It was worse than anyone could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed…yelled…gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman's commentary made everything much, much worse.…Horrible pictures formed in her mind as she heard: “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow”… “He's taking risks, this one!”…“Clever move - pity it didn't work!”

And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”

But he didn't shout out the marks; she supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd. “One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

She briefly closed her eyes, breathing slowly to calm herself down.  _Only the dragon and its egg matter, no Hermione, no Harry, no Viktor._ She chanted inside her head, trembling from head to toe. She heft the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand.

Fleur was deeply aware of how her face must be turning feral, her bone structure much sharper due to her Veela blood. She could not hide that, but she could use it to look intimidating, instead of scared.

She looked up to the stands, and saw her flock cheering loudly from the Ravenclaw section, her beta and Gabrielle jumping up and down in their seats. She smiled to herself, and briefly seeked Hermione, who she found sitting next to her redhead friend. Determined to stay focused, the veela looked for the dragon and its eggs.

The Welsh Green stood next to a small cave in the northeast corner of the arena, Fleur's position invisible to it thanks to the multiple boulders in the way. For her plan to work, she needed to get closer. Fleur closed her eyes and allowed her wings to emerge, her custom clothing allowing them to free themselves without a hitch.

She slowly took off, people gasping upon realizing what she was doing. She flew at a reasonable height, hoping the dragon would not expect its enemy to appear from the skies. The moment she started to descend yet again, approaching its layer, the students pointed at her and cheered her on loudly. The dragon turned towards her, and did not hesitate before sending flames in her direction. She barely managed to avoid it, but ended up cornered in the process.

“Oh I'm not sure that was wise!” she could hear Bagman shouting gleefully.

She gritted her teeth and shot towards the dragon, who was not expecting it and, therefore, took a few seconds more than needed to send another wave of heat in her direction. Fleur used the fire cover to abruptly land, hide her wings yet again, and roll to end up behind the boulder nearest to the eggs.

“Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!”

Fleur took a peek: the dragon had not seen where she had hidden. She slowly, but surely, pointed towards it with her wand, reciting the spell she had memorised inside her head. The shouts of the public, and the size of the beast, did not help with her goal, but she kept going. Her forehead was soon sweaty, her body still showed traces of feathers, but as time progressed, the dragon seemed to be more and more relaxed, and less and less interested in its surroundings, even laying down with its eyes closed.

After ten minutes, she felt confident enough to approach the eggs. She was next to them when it happened. A snore. Fire.

"Aguamenti!" she shouted, without thinking. The fire in her skirt was extinguished, but the bewitched sleep she had put her dragon under also suffered from her lack of concentration. The dragon started to wake up.

Before it could come to its senses, Fleur ran desperately towards the golden egg, and grabbed it, running in search for some cover. Luckily, the dragon handlers soon entered the arena, and took care of the Welsh Green.

The Veela watched in disbelief as Karkaroff, Bagman and Crouch all gave her ridiculously low scores. Dumbledore and Maxime, on the other hand, both gave her the highest possible mark.

-

" _I cannot believe you were stupid enough to show your more intimidating Veela traits."_

_"Madame, with all due respect, I thought my Veela traits were exactly why you chose us."_

_"Wizards adore creatures as long as they are cute. You cannot become intimidating and still expect them to hand you a win."_

_"They fear what they don't know because of their weakness, that is not my fault."_

_"No, but it will get you nowhere. Trust me, if you want to make a difference, first you need to have the power to do so."_

_"I hate it."_

_"I know. But you can win, Fleur. Show them you can win even without using any veela powers. Show them you are better than them at their own game."_

_"But the score was so low..."_

_"You still are in the game. Do not forget that."_

_"I won't."_

* * *

 Hermione stood next to the healing tent, waiting for Harry to come out. But, instead, Fleur did.

The blonde barely spared her a glance, but her mate felt compelled to congratulate her as well. It had been an impressive demonstration.

"Oi," the brunette called.

"Oui?" she did not turn around, but stopped anyway.

"That was a fantastic job. You deserved a better score."

Fleur felt her cheeks flare up, and a dumb smile took over her face. She felt grateful Hermione could not see it.

"Mercy."

"Je t'en prie."

Fleur felt on top of the world for the rest of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give a shout out to the girl in my english lit class who read today's final exam's first of four questions (social criticism in two of the main books studied, which ones is up to the student) and wrote a fucking dissertation on how Whorf and Yule talk about cultures' views on their analysis of linguistic relativism, which is from another subject.  
> She did not realize we were doing the english lit final (so, social criticism in Dickens, Fowles, Drabble or Lawrence) until she read the second question (contrast between the different interpretations of love in the novels) and looked up to see all of us with our laptops, books and phones out. She then proceeded to loudly say "FUCK ME!", upon realizing she had wasted an hour and a half of the four hours.  
> Ever since she told us why she had done that, and we bought her beers, I have felt intimately connected to her xD poor thing.


	5. Head over heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yule Ball typical drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry for the delay, sober me was not allowing me to come out and play. Finally did my last difficult exam and will resume updating once a week or so.  
> My boyfriend is coming next weekend, so hopefully the other one will be up by next friday night, although it will be a difficult one and might take a bit more (I have interesting changes thought out for the second task but, it needs to be written carefully).

“The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -”

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry, Professor McGonagall ignored them.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then-”

-

It was all people would talk about. Hermione was honestly tired of it, she had no intention of asking anyone out, let alone beg for a date like so many of the other students had been doing. She needed a break from them.

When the brunette entered the library, she noticed Krum was already there, hiding between the shelves, probably tired of his fan club.  _Not that I can blame him_ , Hermione thought. They seemed to be mostly airheads and the rare good student that made the gryffindor wonder what were brains for if they were so against using them when it was due.

She sighed, deciding on a table not too far away from the charms section, and proceeded to get her book out. Ever since she had seen Fleur's first task strategy, she had been utterly curious about the spell the veela had used. Hermione did not recognize it, and she had studied seventh year books more than once. It had been an amazing display of magical powers, even if it had flown over most of the public's heads, and she did mean it when she had told the blonde they should have given her better scores. She did not understand how such a performance had landed the french teen in bottom position, while Krum, who had destroyed quite a few priceless dragon eggs in his attempt, had gotten the first spot next to Harry. Not that it hadn't been impressive anyway, as fighting a dragon could only be.

But Fleur, the same one Hermione had deemed an airhead not too long ago, had used the most intelligent strategy. The rest had relied too much on their physical abilities and, while the veela had surely done so as well, it was less a minor factor in her case.

Although, being smart and being smarter than Hermione were two very different things, and so Hermione set herself on a goal: learning the spell. It was dumb, but she felt as though she could not allow her former nemesis to beat her in every single category. Hermione was still the brightest witch of her age, and she would make sure no one could deny that.

"Hermy-own-ninny," a voice interrupted her research.

To Hermione's surprise, the bulgarian seeker was right next to her, fidgeting.

"...Yes?" What could he possibly want with her? Help finding a book, maybe? That is why people usually sought her attention while she was reading.

"I vonted to know if you might vish to go with me to the ball?" he asked, accent thick, but voice lacking any doubt.

The girl he was asking, however, was far less certain about what was happening, and at what time she might have given him any kind of indication of a possible interest on her side. Still, he was a young bloke, quite well-mannered in spite of his big muscular frame, and she knew half the school would have died to be in the position she found herself in.

"Oh, Viktor, that is very sweet, but..." She was not sure about how to voice her concerns over the publicity that might receive, she already had enough drama going on. Plus, why would he want to go with her? They had barely spoken, besides the occasional study session.

"You do not haf to say anything yet, Hermy-own-ninny." He stopped her, upon seeing where things were going. "I just vanted you to know I vould be interested in having you as my date, if you vould haf me. I haf seen you around and alvays thought of you as someone to look up to, and I just really vish to haf the opportunity to get to know you better."

The brunette's factions immediately softened. He was sweet. He was smart (-ish, she could admit to that), he was handsome, he was athletic, popular, a champion, foreign... And, as much as it pained her to even think it, the chances of anyone better, or even anyone at all, asking her were slim to none.

"You didn't allow me to finish the sentence. I was going to say that I don't have anything to wear."

Krum's eyes shone with happiness, clearly he cared much more than he had allowed the girl to see. "Do not vorry, Hermy-own-ninny, I am sure you vill look gorgeous in votever you choose."

She felt her cheeks blush.

* * *

Fleur Delacour was so bloody done. She had not been able to take a step throughout the morning, in every corner another student just waiting to ask her out to the Yule Ball, to the point where the veela was seriously considering jumping off a cliff in front of everyone next time it happened (not that it would kill her or even hurt her, but, you know, it would probably get the message across. Hopefully. Maybe.)

-

The Yule Ball was only a week away, and students were still asking Fleur out, to the infinite amusement of the rest of the flock, who could feel their alpha slowly losing it, and Élodie had even started taking bets about when, where and with whom the blonde would finally snap. To escape any more dumb, and terribly false, love confessions, the french champion had taken to hiding in their carriage, completely focused on solving the shrieking egg issue. So far, her instincts told her to throw it on the black lake just so she would not have to bear its awful presence anymore, a constant reminder of both her failure as a champion and as a veela. Fleur made the mistake of voicing that trail of thoughts to Gabrielle one afternoon, who did just that.

_"Honestly, Gabby, you have a fixation with this lake."_

The younger girl shrugged,  _"I do not see you complaining, though."_

 _"I will admit it is mildly relieving to see that awful torture device gone."_ Fleur had been stressed to no end. It did feel good to see the golden object slowly disappear into the water.

_"Maybe we could leave it there."_

_"Gabrielle."_

_"What? It is not like it is of any use here with us."_ The asleep veela did have a point, much to her sister's dismay.  _"Plus, in the water it cannot scare everyone with such terrible sounds."_

 _"It cannot?"_ Hope suddenly filled the alpha's heart. She might know what they needed.

The kid stared at her as if she had grown a second head.  _"You know this. Père loves discussing how muggle sciences and magic can work together."_

_"I had forgotten! Aphrodite, I had forgotten!"_

_"You are acting really weird."_

Fleur turned towards Gabby, maniac grin on her normally composed face.  _"We need the egg back. I know how to find the clue."_

_"It must be at the bottom of the lake by now, how are we supposed to re-AHHH."_

It was not Fleur's proudest moment, but she did need the egg back and she knew perfectly well that her sister not only loved swimming, but was also pretty great at it. Plus, she had been the one to throw it in the first place. It was just fair.

 _"Dive, kid, dive!"_ Fleur shouted from her safe and dry spot.

Gabrielle scowled from the freezing water.  _"You are so going to pay for this."_

And, yet, she dove anyway. She would have another chance for a payback.

* * *

Hermione had been staring at Fleur, who seemed to be perusing every single book in the library while cursing loudly in french, earning herself a powerful enemy in Madam Pince.

It was rare for the blonde to be in public, with suitors always tailing her steps to the point even Viktor's fangirls seemed like a minimum disturbance in comparison. As a matter of fact, the veela had already rejected three guys and two girls in the little less than half an hour she had been between shelves. On one hand, the brunette understood it ought to be complicated to be in her position. On the other, one of them even left crying after she called them by the wrong name for the third time while declining his offer. Hermione found it all kind of dehumanising but, judging from the looks the girl got, it went both ways.

She briefly wondered who she would go to the ball with. Fleur, that is. She kept getting asked out, but nobody was able to tell whether she already had a partner or simply decided to fly solo. Maybe she already had a secret boyfriend coming from France. Or maybe she just considered Balls unnecessary and had talked to her headmistress to get out of it, as Hermione herself would have, had she had the chance. Of course, Fleur did seem like the type to like that kind of social events, while Hermione could not care any less for-

"Ball?"

At what point had the blonde gotten so close without her noticing? She was now sitting right next to her, staring at her waiting for an answer.

"Uh?" was all the brunette could give.

 The veela arched a eyebrow, inquisitive. "I asked if anyone was going with you to the Ball."

 _And there is the big head again, assuming she can get asked out every five minutes but I cannot get a sad date._ Hermione was over it. She was not going to allow the girl to rattle her.

"What is it to you?" Hermione got up, grabbing her books. She was not looking forward to studying in the common room, but it would definitely be better than staying here and going back to being unable to stand the french student's existence. That did not mean, however, she was completely okay with people trying to walk over her.

"I-I just..." The blonde had either not noticed her harsh answer or simply chose to ignore it, and, when Hermione was ready to go, got to her feet and walked next to her. "I still don't have a partner."

* * *

Fleur had asked. Fleur had finally asked. She knew she promised to give up, but when the veela had screamed at her to get up and at least _try_ , she had been unable to say no.

But the brunette was less receptive.

"Too good for us, I guess." Hermione replied, sarcastically.

"Actually..."

The gryffindor suddenly stopped, turning around. The older student stopped just short of crashing against her destined.

"Why are you following me?"

"I had something to tell you." _Exasperating stubborn mate_.

"You did already, didn't you?"  _I can see why she's a gryffindor, though._

"Well, no. I was wondering if you would go with me to the Ball?"

* * *

 Hermione was being pranked. She was completely positive someone had talked the french into this. It just did not make sense. They barely knew each other, they had interacted negatively almost each time they had seen each other.

"I wouldn't," said the brunette.

"Why?" the blonde, for all her faults, was a fantastic actress. She looked positively crushed and, if Hermione had not known better, she would have doubted her choice. But she did know her, she had watched her.

The younger girl shrugged, "there is a wasp."

"What?"

"Yes, in your invitation. I can't accept it."

* * *

"A wasp?" _There is not even a physical invitation, for Aphrodite's sake._

"Yes, a wasp." Her mate stared back at her, challenging the veela to contradict her.

-

After Fleur had been left standing alone in some corridor. Everything had gone wrong. Every single little thing.

She had no mercy when a redhead approached her. She finally snapped.

-

Élodie won the bet on place, Gabrielle on time and the whom was a tie, as no one had guessed name correctly.

* * *

 When Hermione came into the common room just after Harry, Ron was sitting on one of the chairs, looking horrified.

“Why did I do it?” he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

“What?” said Harry.

“He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.

"You what?' said both Harry and the brunette.

“I don't know what made me do it!” Ron gasped again. “What was I playing at? There were people - all around - I've gone mad - everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall - she was standing there talking to Diggory - and it sort of came over me - and I asked her!” Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable. “She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something, she just kept staring in disgust as if I were the last person on Earth she would even consider going with. Didn't even answer, just hexed me so I was thrown into a wall. And then - I dunno - I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it as she rose her wand again. You should have seen her eyes, pure rage.”

A weird relief took over Hermione. She guessed it was just concern, considering the blonde could have tried to play with her friend as well, and she did not trust Ron to figure it out as she herself had.

"Well, I asked Cho." Harry confessed.

"And?"

"She is going with Cedric." He sat down, next to Ron, a look of both defeat and resignation on his face.

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

“Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl.…”

“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.

“Well - you can come with one of us!”

“No, I can't,” snapped Hermione.

“Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has…”

“I can't come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I'm already going with someone.”

“No, you're not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!”

“Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!”

She wondered what he would think if he knew not only one champion has asked her out, but two, or even three if you counted Harry being desperate for a date.

“Okay, okay, we know you're a girl,” he said. “That do? Will you come now?”

“I've already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I'm going with someone else!”

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again.

“She's lying,” said Ron flatly, watching her go.

Ginny shook her head, having already heard from Hermione that was not the case the moment Viktor asked her.

* * *

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her, while she looked eager to get rid of him. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry; he looked away from them so he wouldn't have to talk to them.

Fleur's eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. Her jaw dropped. It was Hermione.

But she didn't look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow - or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling - rather nervously, it was true - but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever.

“Hi, Harry!” she said. “Hi, Parvati!”

Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn't the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her. Fleur would have wondered what that was about had her attention not be completely focused on the girl's smooth skin. There was so much of it.

-

Hermione didn't seem to be thinking for once. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating. It now occurred to Fleur that she had never actually heard Krum speak before beyond grunts, but he was certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically at that.

“Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking,” he was telling Hermione. “Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -”

“Now, now, Viktor!” said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, “don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!”

-

Fleur wanted to drop dead. Her date was boring at best, and plainly annoying if she was forced to be completely honest. Meanwhile, the object of her affections had not spared her a glance, while the veela could barely take her eyes off her. She needed to get her attention by any means, her physic qualities, her voice, trying to include the rest of the campions in the conversation... Nothing had made either Krum nor Hermione even spare her a glance.

“Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively when asked about Hogwards, knowing very well it was something precious to Hermione, and her impotence too great to care about the repercussions it might bring as long as it got the girl to look. “At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat.” She slapped her hand onto the table.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. She had the impression that Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying, but it mattered little.

“Absolutely right,” he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. “Like that. Yeah.”

Not even such disturbance brought Hermione's eyes to her. The veela wanted to scream.

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her “Hermy-own.”

"Her-my-oh-nee,” she said slowly and clearly.

“Herm-own-ninny.”

“Close enough,” she said, grinning.

It was bound to be a long night for the french.

* * *

 Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing.

“Hi,” said Harry. Ron didn't say anything.

“It's hot, isn't it?” said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. “Viktor's just gone to get some drinks.”

Ron gave her a withering look. “Viktor?” he said. “Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?”

Hermione looked at him in surprise. “What's up with you?” she said.

“If you don't know,” said Ron scathingly, “I'm not going to tell you.”

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged. “Ron, what -?”

“He's from Durmstrang!” spat Ron. “He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -” Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, “fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!”

Hermione's mouth fell open.

“Don't be so stupid!” she said after a moment. “The enemy! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?”

Ron chose to ignore this. “I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?”

“Yes, he did,” said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. “So what?”

“What happened - trying to get him to join spew, were you?”

“No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he - he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!”

Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes.

“Yeah, well - that's his story,” said Ron nastily.

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

“Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with.…He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -”

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered. “For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one -”

Ron changed tack at the speed of light. “Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions -”

“I'd never help him work out that egg!” said Hermione, looking outraged. “Never. How could you say something like that - I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?”

* * *

 Fleur could not help herself when she heard Hermione's voice rise from the other side of the room. By the time she arrived, the young witch was leaving, but even in the distance you could see her shoulders shaking and the petulant redhead watching her leave with indifference.

She approached the git with her wand in her hand, rage feeling her. She could barely get the girl to talk to her, and this twat had that luck and decided to use it to hurt her. The beauxbatons student could feel her wings trying to break free, feathers slowly growing as her control wavered.

"What did you do to her?!?!" she asked, throwing her wand to the Wisely neck.

The guy seemed scared out of his mind, probably from recalling their incident earlier in the week. Still, he did not surrender.

"What is it to you, veela?" he snapped, "shouldn't you be a bitch somewhere else?"

Fleur thought about a million spells, each other producing a different kind of torture, each one leaving marks that would not help her case, were her actions found out. Still, she could surely figure something out. The laughing jinx, for example, coul-

“Vare is Herm-own-ninny?” said a voice. Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two butterbeers.

“No idea,” said Ron mulishly, looking at him. “Lost her, have you?”

Fleur snarled, her patience wearing too thin. She knew it was too late not to turn, but also aware that if she did, there would be consequences.

The french veela fled, running towards the gardens, a confused Roger left behind. The moment she smelled fresh air, she took flight.

-

Sharp eagle eyes saw a brunette head attached by the lips to that of a bulgarian seeker.

It was fortunate that no other birds roamed the area at that moment, or the tears blinding the veela's sight might have made lead them to crash against each other.

* * *

Hermione felt a little awkward, surely because of it being her first kiss.

But when Viktor pulled away, and she saw his smile, she smiled back.

He was happy. She could learn to be, as well. She surely could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all feedback is appreciated.  
> Also, have you ever been to a dance or anything that required a partner? At most, we had to go in pairs to pick up our high school diploma, quite a few years back, and the teachers wanted each girl to go with a guy, and a couple of guys together because there were not enough girls. I had assumed I would go with my then best friend, as he is gay and we had talked about it months before, but he was mad at me because I forgot I was supposed to cover for him during his weekend visiting his boyfriend, but when this girl I was in love with asked me to go with her to another city to celebrate an early New Year's party, I said yes. Did not realize until that same day, and by then I had my tickets and hotel bought. So he went with this other girl and I was stuck with a weird guy who kept scratching his head as if he had lice. Fun times.


	6. I found you (next to me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day + Fleurmione finally starts rising.  
> Significant changes were made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a ride, but it quickstarts Hermione and Fleur getting closer.  
> Next chapter will finally be the second task. This fic has gotten slightly out of control, hence why I will probably need to rearrange the basic plan for it in these next few days.

Everybody got up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor common room was much quieter than it had been lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy conversations. Hermione's hair was bushy again; she confessed to Harry that she had used liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on it for the ball, “but it's way too much bother to do every day,” she said matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears.

Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. They were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Ron and Harry wasted no time in telling Hermione about the conversation they had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione didn't seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron did.

“Well, I thought he must be,” she said, shrugging. “I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible.…It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves.…It's just bigotry, isn't it?”

Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply scathingly, but perhaps he didn't want another row, because he contented himself with shaking his head disbelievingly while Hermione wasn't looking.

-

“How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid told her?”

“No,” said Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, furious. “He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him back.”

“Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball,” said Hermione quietly.

“We'd have seen her in the garden!” said Ron. “Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her.…”

“Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry, ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it everywhere in his anger. “Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people.”

“Like you and Ron did, you mean,” said Hermione.

“We weren't trying to hear him!” said Ron indignantly. “We didn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!”

"It is his bloody right to speak about his mother without fear! The attitude of the wizarding community towards other magical beings is ridiculous!"

Harry hid by eating. He was over getting involved in their petty arguments.

* * *

Fleur watched Krum dive into the lake, and she cursed her bad luck. If both her and the bulgarian were to train there, it would be obvious to the Hogwarts students what the task would be about... Still, she had no choice, she needed to prepare for the specific conditions the second task would place them in.

She finished zipping up her wetsuit, aware of how such a garment would not be allowed during the actual task. Still, it felt comforting to know that, were she to have an accident, the issue would not include acute hypothermia. Either Krum had been practising for longer, and thus already knew how to both breathe and cast a warming charm on himself while on the water, or he simply did not consider the temperature of the lake worthy of hiding his chest from his admirers, who kept drooling and fawning themselves. There was also a slight chance he was smart enough to avoid giving away his strategy, something Fleur herself could not afford, considering how truly horrible veelas usually are in water, Gabrielle being the exception. She needed all the practise she was able to squeeze in.

-

She was drying herself up, envious of Krum's stamina as he kept swimming hours after she had joined him, when the famous trio appeared. The moment her blue eyes saw her mate joking around with the redhead twat, the veela in her started fighting to get free. Her face's structure sharpened, her back tickled as feathers found their way out... She snarled at him, like an animal detecting a threat in their territory, and threw herself into the lake again.

The cold water hit her with violence. Still, she repeated her for-now-weak bubblehead charm and allowed the liquid to push her creature back to her core and away from any kind of control.

* * *

 As Hermione passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, she saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He was very skinny indeed, but apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived, right into the lake.

“He's mad!” said Harry, staring at Krum's dark head as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. “It must be freezing, it's January!”

“It's a lot colder where he comes from,” said Hermione. “I suppose it feels quite warm to him.”

“Yeah, but there's still that one,” said Ron, pointing towards Fleur. He didn't sound anxious - if anything, he sounded hopeful. Hermione noticed his tone of voice and frowned.

“He's really nice, you know,” she said. “He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me.”

"What have you spoken to her about? Has she mentioned me?" Ron asked, ignoring Hermione’s comments in favour of staring at the french, who snarled at them before dropping back in the lake.

"Her? Why would I talk to her?"

"To tell her about me."

"Ron, mate, she hates your guts." Harry pointed out. "She literally just threw herself into a lake to escape you."

The redhead sighed, not bothered by it in the least. "It is fine, she won't always."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at his evident drooling. "I, for one, think it's great she hates you. I don't want anything to do with prideful mean witches."

Harry grabbed her arm before she could turn away from the lake. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do!"

"She hates Ron because of you, 'Mione." At the girl's questioning gaze, he kept going, "she saw you leave crying and almost ripped him apart. She was shaking from rage, went bloody feral."

"Her? You must be wrong, Harry." The brunette shook her head in disbelief.

"She was so pretty... Like an angel of death." Ron commented, still lost in his appreciation of both Krum and Fleur. It had to be his own personal Christmas.

"I'm telling you. She defended you. Maybe you should give her a chance."

Hermione thought about it. Why would the girl try to humiliate her to then help her and care for her? And then a wild thought crossed her mind: what if she had not wanted to do so? What if she genuinely was curious about Hermione's date status? Would she have asked her had she not been so rude to the french? No, it was ridiculous, and yet... She had always had this pull towards the veela, something that even her stubborn nature and her dislike for the girl could not quite erase. For some reason, she foolishly hoped it was mutual. She had been awful to the champion, who apparently had defended her when no one else had bothered to.

It was a lot to think about. It was a lot to reconsider.

"Maybe. Maybe I should." The gryffindor admitted.

* * *

 " _Fleur, there is an english girl saying you agreed to study together today."_

_"An english girl?"_

_"Yes, bushy-haired, red trim in her robes. She's at the door. It makes Maxine queasy, you should go soon."_

_"Sure, I will, I will. Give me a moment, I need to get my coat."  
_

_"And your books?"_

_"Right, my books."_

* * *

 Fleur Delacour had not agreed to study with anyone, both of them knew this. Still, they found themselves sitting next to each other in a secluded area by the lake, in complete silence, as if any noise could break their truce apart. Fleur did not dare wonder why Hermione had decided to look for her, and the younger girl was too surprised over the french's acceptance to truly take the situation in.

And, still, they both felt all the better being by each other's side, but neither told the other.

-

Fleur's books were always above what any student should be studying, and she went quite easily through them. Hermione admired the veela's powers, and guessed that she would make an excellent professional in whatever field she chose.

It did not hurt either that she got to witness first-hand how the blonde gently bit her lip while thinking, or how her jaw would clench in frustration whenever one of the concepts was especially difficult to grasp.

Still, they did not talk to each other.

-

Hermione was struggling to find anything that could help Harry with his egg. All she knew was that the other champions had been seen frequenting the black lake more often. She wanted to ask Fleur about it, but knew it would be unethical.

Plus, she felt weird having their first civil conversation being about someone else, her cashing a favour she knew she did not deserve.

-

After finishing her potions essay, courtesy of Snape blaming Neville for how the Slytherins were throwing jinxed paper balls at him, Hermione was exhausted and frustrated. She had barely had any time for Viktor lately, and, although he claimed to understand, she still felt guilty.

She laid on the grass, under Fleur's curious gaze, and closed her eyes. She needed one second to herself.

When she heard the veela close her book, and felt her laying by her side, a small smile crossed her lips, and she turned around to look at the blonde, who was already looking back at her, calm painting her features.

 

It had started raining, and they took cover under a tree. Fleur casted a warming charm on them, something she seemed to be quite proficient at, and sat down, watching the rain fall all around them.

The brunette felt compelled to show her gratitude, and went to squeeze the girl's hand. The french girl slightly jumped upon feeling her touch, but allowed it to happen.

-

The Giant Squid had stolen Fleur's book from her hands, it all happening too quickly for either of them to react on time.

Hermione discovered that afternoon that Fleur's voice was especially melodic when loudly cursing.

When Fleur came out from the lake, her tiresome battle for her book clearly lost, she did not think about it, just walked straight to Hermione and laid her head on her lap, exhaustion winning any possible fight with common decency and decorum.

She fell asleep instantly. The gryffindor did not move an inch until she woke up.

-

When Fleur arrived to their spot, her latest book still lost and the replacement not available until the next day, Hermione was already there.

Harry and Ron would at some point begin to wonder why their friend was never there, but, at the moment, all that mattered to the girl was the peace she felt during her daily escapades.

Fleur's face after Hermione started reading out loud was also a big bonus.

-

The day before the second task, Hermione was on the edge of a breakdown. As if sensing it, Fleur approached her in a different way that day.

The french laid on her side, staring at the brunette, who looked back with worry in her eyes.

"Come 'ere," she had muttered, prompting Hermione to move closer, until they were spooning. "We will be okay, 'Ermione. We will all be okay."

"You can't know that."

It was the first conversation they had had since their arrangement started.

Hermione ended it almost immediately, getting up and leaving. She had to get to the library, to keep on looking for methods Harry could use. She had been selfish using a great deal of her time in something other than helping her friend, which clearly needed to be a priority.

* * *

 

_"Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We’ve taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour-- the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back"_

 

Fleur had a bad feeling about it.

She was not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly appreciate each comment and kudos so much, you don't even know.


	7. A treasure (in your eyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second task and its aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a Valentine's day in possession of a semi-solid relationship, must be in want of true drama.
> 
> No, but seriously, I would avoid celebrating if it didn't make him so happy, it seriously delayed my writing schedule and every year there are two or three guys who spend the day messing with the head of anyone who's seeing me, which isn't fun either.
> 
> I really need to stop living in a poor teen comedy.
> 
> This was, by far, the hardest chapter to write so far. Hope you can forgive my delay.

_"Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_Wove taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour-- the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back"_

 

Hermione slept in the bottom of a lake, unaware of how she would end up triggering the event that put in jeopardy the magic of many young wizards and witches.

* * *

 Fleur knew from the moment she first heard the song. And she did not want to believe it. She thought Dumbledore or any of the other judges would have immediately dismissed such a ridiculous idea, and yet, she found herself in the morning of their second task, goosebumps all over her skin, a deep feeling of dread taking over her body.

Feathers sprouted and immediately fell down as she fought back for control, which she only managed to hold on to for a few seconds before another wave of pure terror hit her. The sight would have been gruesome, were not her feathers unable to grow beyond a couple of centimeters before promptly succumbing to the pull of gravity. It was almost imperceptible to the public, what looked like dust pilling at her shifting feet being the only indicator.

"They would't have taken them, Fleur." Cedric kept reassuring her, even if his face showed a paleness that not even Professor Binns would have been able to match, dead and all as he is. "They did not agree to anything. We did."

Viktor knew better. He had kept to himself, grief, defiance and anger evident in all of his being.

Harry was a no show, and that was Fleur's only hope so far, as sad as it might sound. Maybe Hermione had been delayed by his friend's cold feet. Maybe she had fallen asleep with a book on her lap, as out of character as it might be to miss out on the chance to support a friend. Maybe she was simply hiding somewhere between the crowd, and not one of them had been able to find her.

But Cho was not there, the smart asian girl she had grown to consider something akin to a friend. Neither was the annoying redhead who had dared insult her mate. Gabrielle's whereabouts were also unaccounted for since the day before. It briefly made Fleur wonder if she had really been so obvious in her distaste for partner that both Harry -whose date had soon ditched him,- and her had been the only ones not paired out with their respective Yule Ball plus ones, even if both of them had a romantic interest in the lake, whether the organizers knew it or not.

Just then, as Cedric repeated once again what could easily be called the Champion Mantra by now, Harry arrived, panting and obviously half-asleep. He was placed next to her, Krum on his other side.

"Have you seen Hermione?" He asked the bulgarian.

"No." He denied, shaking his head.

Before anything else could be said, a whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause, and the champions jumped, Fleur's veela reflexes giving her a small advantage, which her feathers would surely need. A bird's anatomy was not made for deep swims. After idly noticing Harry nearly drowning before the gillyweed changed him, she could only hope her own cat was faring better.

Feathers kept sprouting from all of her skin, but trying to prevent it was a lost battle.

-

Fleur's heart pounded harder the longer it took to find her mate, her vision a tunnel focused only on this goal.

Maybe that's why she did not notice the grindylows approaching her.

* * *

Hermione took her first deep breath in hours, the slumber of magic not quite gone yet. Next to her, equally wet and confused, were Cho Chang, Gabrielle Delacour and Ron.

"Oh, good, miss Granger has come back, we can begin." Dumbledore smiled, a certain mischievous look in his eyes. "We had an issue during the second task."

"No joke." Ron snorted.

"Mister Weasley, is it?" Karkaroff intervened, allowing a chance for Ron to correct him. "Well, mister Weasley, it is not a joke, as you have so kindly pointed out, so I vould keep my mouth shout and listen to vhat your headmaster has to tell you."

Ron's skin became a shade not unlike that of his hair, his spine straightening.

"Thank you, Igor." A pause. "As you all know, you were supposed to wake up after two hours or when your head first emerged from the water as long as at least an hour had passed. But only half an hour went through before we were forced to wake you up. Theoretically, and technically, the task's time has not even finished yet."

"What happened?" Cho was the first to ask.

"Well, miss Chang, one champion had a treasure that did not belong to them, but to other champion. This and other factors made the creatures of the lake unwilling to participate any further in any possible task. Without their presence protecting you, the treasures, from harm, we were forced to get you out of there, as well as the champions."

"But the goblet was a ma'ical contract, non?" Gabrielle asked.

"Ah, yes, miss Delacour, indeed it was."

"So because of one of you, and one of them, 'e are now unsure 'ow this can be fixed. We 'ave experts from three different ministries looking into it." Maxime chipped in, obviously displeased with the situation.

"What do 'ou mean?" the youngest french looked scared.

"It means nothing yet. They are just prone to the dramatics."

"Don't cove' up you' mistakes, Dumbledore. You'll leaf' four kids as squibs if 'e do not solve this."

"I am sure we will figure it out." The english headmaster dismissed any other idea with his pale and bony hand.

"What will happen to us? Are we squibs as well?" Ron finally intervened, horrifyed.

"Don't be silly, Ronald, they wouldn't," Hermione turned towards their headmaster.  _They would never, right?_

Dumbledore seemed sympathetic to them, his eyes shining with kindness and even a hint with pity, "we are not sure, mister Weasley. This had never happened before."

A deafening silence took over the room.

_God, what has happened?_

* * *

Fleur woke up to the smell of sanitizer. She tried to open her eyes, but her head was pounding and the light just made it worse.

"Good, you are awake. Drink this," something was placed in her hand by the tired voice. "Dumbledore and the others will be here shortly."

The champion downed the drink, grimacing at its bitter taste. The magic in it, though, allowed her to open her eyes and see the outline of a tent, the three other champions sitting a couple of beds away and chatting. Or, well, Harry and Cedric were chatting while Krum just sulked.

"Fleur is awake! Harry Potter is going to be so happy." A house elf in colourful clothing announced cheerely, "Harry Potter, Harry Potter! Sir! Fleur is awake, Fleur Delacour is awake!" he shouted, piercing the blonde's ears.

"What happened to you?" Cedric said, getting up and approaching her just a second before Harry. "We saw a red flash and two minutes later the mermepeople had surrounded us and Percy took us back here."

"We tried to call for Dumbledore, or even McGonagall, but our petitions were declined. All that madame Pomfrey has been able to tell us is that we need to wait and we might soon find out, and her assistant is not of much use either." Harry proclaimed.

When the Beauxbatons student turned towards Viktor, he just nodded, before adverting his gaze elsewhere. A particular spot of the wooden floor seemed to have captured his full attention.

"We thought you might have died." He continued, matter of factly, reminding her in an odd way of Hermione. Aphrodite, Hermione!

"What has been of the treasures?" she immediately asked.

"It is okay, Fleur, they are okay," Cedric assured her. Mister Perfect, Head Boy, Pretty Face, Pale-as-a-fucking-Vampire and just so fucking good. He was so calmed right now, while refusing to answer. Couldn't he see her urgence?

Noticing how tense she was getting, Harry quickly took the lead again, "we believe they are in a nearby tent, all save and sound."

"How do you know? " Fleur asked, grabbing Harry by the shoulders, "have you seen them?"

The boy who lived backed, freeing himself of Fleur's grip and raising his hands, attempting, barely succeeding, to calm her down. "Krum knows things."

"Uh?"

"Yes, just... He is always so firmly staring, you know? At first I thought it was just him having a crush on Hermione, but now? I tell you, he knows things."

_This is one of the weirdest conversations I have ever had, and I am a bloody mix between Veela and wizard._

"Oh, I see you have already arrived, Murcus." An old voice said from behind the curtains, which were parted to reveal a smiling Dumbledore.

The merman who emerged from a square in the floor ignored the man's greeting, and turned instead towards Fleur, "we sincerely apologize to you, champions. We were not aware of the circumstances. Otherwise, we would have never dared take from you."

"What circumstances?" Harry asked.

"I do not speak to earthlings about the air and water's affairs, youngster."

"Neither do I, Murcus, be sure of that." Dumbledore intervened. "However, our friends here are entitled to know about their affairs. Wouldn't you agree?"

"You have already told some to the others. So it is not like I have much of a choice now, do I?" Murcus bit back.

"Barely." Dumbledore did not appear to care a bit.

"What is it?" Fleur asked, her thoughts running back to her mate.

"Well, miss Delacour, as I am sure you already know, a treasure belonged to one champion, but was assigned to another. Because of this, and a few other factors, we have been forced to cancel the task, upon the merpeople's insistance."

"But the goblet was a magical contract..." Cedric thought, out loud.

"Indeed."

Fleur was going to lose her connection to Hermione. Fleur was going to be alone in her feelings, in her life. She had to stop this. The Tournament had to go on.

"We need to finish." She said, getting up to only fall down, her legs giving out under her.

"Miss Delacour!" Madame Pomfrey walked towards her, anger evident on her features. "You have lost a lot of blood! You cannot, under ANY circumstances, walk until I say so. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I do not wish to walk." Fleur wand in hand, hand on wand, said.  _Bombarda!_

"Miss Delacour, I assure you this isn't necessary." Dumbledore stepped in.

"Fleur, stop ‘zis right now!" Madame Maxine intervened.

The student shook her head, while the other champions stared in disbelief at the situation. "I need to finish. I wish to swim."

And, with that, Fleur Delacour fell into the water through a hole of her own making.

Viktor Krum jumped after her.

Cedric looked defiant while running towards it.

Harry felt like he had no choice as he jumped. He might as well drown with them.

The water was cold. But they had to finish. Fleur could not lose her connection to Hermione. She could not. It meant too much.

-

When the blonde noticed Harry poorly prepared for the task, being forced to go up for water every few seconds, and refusing to swim deeper, she used a bubblehead charm on him. A thankful boyish grin appeared on his face.

* * *

"Students, I am happy to announce we have found a way." Percy said, as he entered the tent.

"I knew you could do it, brother!" Ron smiled.

Percy looked embarrassed. "Not right now, please."

"So? What is the way?" Asked Gabrielle.

"Well, we need to give them marks. That is it." He shrugged. "Then the cup will think of the task as over, and we can finish the tournament after the third task."

"You are still doing three?!?!?" Hermione shouted. "I swear to God, it is like you wizards never learn. Three tasks! Three tasks when the first one already caused significant structural damage to the castl-"

"That was an easy fix."

"Then you kidnap someone's loved ones, which I am pretty sure is illegal even in the magical world; almost make all of them lose their magic, and, now? Now you want to go through yet another death trap just for your bloody amusement."

Percy gave her a pointed look, "I assure you, miss Granger, that this tournament will take place with or without your approval, this Tournament is a tradition, one in which the minister, the ministry and myself have bet a lot on. Of course, I do not expect you to understand, you yourself being akin to a muggle and such."

Hermione had, not that long ago, punched Malfoy. It was nothing compared to what she felt now. Punching Percy? Punching Percy was the real deal. She felt more satisfied than she ever thought she could be when resorting to violence.

* * *

Krum guided the troop, with Cedric and Harry defending both him and Fleur, who had to repair the charm in her Horgwart's companions every few minutes, the exhaustion of performing it not once but three times having a negative effect on its duration, which she learnt in an unfortunate manner five minutes in. Cedric's charm, considerably less powerful than her own, had had similar issues, and, thus, Fleur had been put in charge of the repairs, which, fortunately, took considerably less energy than a full charm. Still, it was tiring, and more than once had Harry been forced to leave Cedric as the lookout as he tried to help Fleur swim while wounded.

Theirs was a dysfunctional group, but helping each other had greatly improved their chances of survival.

When she looked at them, and although she would have never expected their participation, let alone help, she could feel nothing but gratitude, Viktor's rendezvous with her mate nothing but a distant memory, and her irritation at Harry's champion status completely vanished. Even Cedric's calm demeanor did not seem as irritating.

They were going to make it, and, for that, she was extremely grateful.

* * *

Saying McGonagall was surprised by Hermione's behaviour would be an understatement. As they sat across each other, the professor was unable to form any coherent words beyond "Miss Granger! How could you?" and synonyms of such words.

Moody, however, seemed to have a much lighter view on the subject. "Was it a good punch? How did it feel?" Had been asked more than once, his presence as an auror required, as she had physically assaulted someone who represented the english ministry of magic. Honestly, if she did not spend at least a night in Azkaban, she would be surprised. But, to be completely candid, she could not allow that bigotry to go unpunished, even less so under the current circumstances and in the name of the ministry.

"Miss Granger, I've sent a message to the ministry to sort this out, as their delegation here is unable to make any decision on their own. I do hope all charges will be dropped shortly, but, for the moment, Alastor will be your chaperone once school hours are over. He will make sure you get from your last class to the Great Hall, and will also accompany you up to your common room. During your free hours, you will be required to attend the library. Madame Pince, as well as your professors, have all agreed to check your attendance, as to keep your whereabouts accounted for." Dumbledore explained, after sending Fawkes away (how he expected a phoenix to not only deliver a letter, but also do so without it getting burnt, was beyond her understanding).

Her thoughts drifted towards Fleur, and their newly acquired meeting habit.

"What about my social life?" She asked.

"You will be perfectly able to talk to mister Potter and mister Weasley in the common room. Unless you meant someone else?" he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

She knew he definitely knew. But there was just something inside of her telling her not to give away any more information about whatever her and Fleur were doing, or were. Though that last question was silly, they were friends. They had not had a proper friendly conversation ever, though, so maybe that was not accurate? She made a mental note to sort it out at a later time, one in which her freedom was not being limited.

"You should have turned him into a ferret, it works wonders," professor Moody whispered to her, as he lead her outside and towards the other treasures, that were already patiently waiting just behind most of the judges. "Dumbledore will be here shortly and, once the champions arrive, and the marks are given, we will be done here for today, and back to your common room it is."

A particular part of that sentence threw the lioness' mind into a spiral. "Were not the champions retrieved as well?"

"They were, but you can thank miss Delacour for this mess."

Of course she could. The dumb french had to be involved somehow.

 _She is going to be the death of me._ If there ever was a moment made to sigh in both frustration and resignation, it was this one. She _better hope they will all come back safe._

* * *

When they reached the clearing, four wooden planks were firmly planted on the lake's floor. Each one of them grabbed one, and swam to the surface. Luckily, the lake was not that huge, and the wood floated quite well. A minimal amount of effort was required to reach the shore, and then? Then they were done.

* * *

By the time Fleur, Harry, Cedric and Viktor went out of the water, Hermione had a million questions in her mind.

But she was not allowed to ask any of them, Madame Pomfrey keeping the champions separated from everyone else as she took care of their wounds, which Fleur seemed to sport a great deal of. Viktor looked almost unharmed, Cedric had several bruises and Harry seemed to have gotten away with a few scratches. Fleur took the worst part of the lake, inarguably. She was sure the french must be exhausted, but when the blonde saw her, a big grin took over both of their faces, they were safe, or as much as anyone could have hoped.

* * *

When the Hogwarts healer finally left them alone, Fleur hugged all of her fellow champions, to the surprise of everyone. She owed them too much. For their part, Harry returned the embrace, and so did Cedric, albeit much more awkwardly. Krum allowed himself to be hugged, which was more than anyone expected. The public was sure to gossip about the second task for many weeks to come, but she did not care. She had found allies.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and wouldn't have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), then said to Cedric and Krum, “And you too-you 'elped -”

She kissed each of them on the cheeks as well. Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchief Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows..."

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the BubbleHead Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal. We would award her twenty-five points. However, she disobeyed direct orders and got the other champions to follow her lead until all of them completed their task. It is because of this that Hogwarts would feel honoured to have her in any of the houses, she has shown traits of all four of them. Thus, we award Fleur Delacour forty points, a well-earned ten from both myself and her headmistress." Dumbledore announced.

Everyone cheered, especially Ron. Hermione glared at him, while Gabrielle looked vaguely amused. If they had been told about any of it, it was certainly possible the asleep veela had figured out why the merpeople had refused to help any longer, considering their relatively close relationship with other magical beings. Fleur knew they were up for a chat.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, would have been first to return, had the merpeople not intervened, and, because of this and his willingness to help others, we award him thirty-eight points. Perfect score from one of our judges." The hufflepuffs hollered.

"Viktor Krum," this earned quite the big cheer, "used an effective, even if incomplete, transfiguration. His abilities as a guide were of great help too, and for this, we award him thirty-seven points."

"Harry Potter, despite his young age, managed to use gillyweed and help his new friends, showing moral fiber as well. For this, we award him thirty-seven points." Dumbledore smiled, "which translates, if I am not mistaken, in all of you being in a tie."

There was a collective gasp around the public, and Fred and George, hidden between the crowd, laughed relieved, fully-aware none of the bets placed had this particular result in their mind and, therefore, no one but the house had won.

-

When Fleur went to find Hermione, she received a pointed look from Alastor Moody. He took her away before any of them could talk to the other.

* * *

Hermione found herself unable to sleep in the middle of the night. The news about what had transpired had flown fast, and therefore mutated. Everyone knew it had something to do with Fleur, some claiming all she did was throw herself back in the water after Harry and Cedric's affections for Cho had forced the ordeal to come to an end. At least, that was the official story, which had caused Harry to turn as red as Ron's hair.

It made sense, and, still, the gryffindor girl had the strangest theory running through her mind. Several things had stood out, and so her mind searched for an alternative. The things is, when she found it, it seemed impossible. And yet... It felt right. Every piece fit perfectly.

Parvati and Lavender's giggling did not help her insomnia, though, and the reminder of Fleur's blue eyes had her sneaking out, which did not sit well with the Fat Lady. Years of doing similar feats had her easily reaching the spot by the lake that had lately become so familiar to them. In the middle of the clearing, sitting wrapped in a blanket, was one Fleur Delacour.

Hermione approached her, marveled by the blonde's beauty where her features were touched by the moonlight. It was truly a sight to behold. The french acknowledged her by lifting a side of her blanket, an invitation she was free to reject. But she did not. Instead, she wrapped the blanket around both of them, her head naturally resting against Fleur's shoulder.

"I am so'ry." The french began, lowering her head.

"I will admit I was mad when I first found out you had thrown yourself into a lake." Hermione murmured.

"And now?"

"I am glad you are fine, and the goblet did not take anyone's powers."

Fleur turned to stare at her, causing the younger girl to raise her head.

"Are you glad I am fine, or we all are?" she could not help but ask.

"I am glad everyone is." Hermione told her. "But especially you."

The blonde turned towards the vast lake in front of them, her cheeks showing signs of a slight blush, which could have been easily attributed to the cold weather, but the tugging in her chest said otherwise.

"Fleur, I need you to look at me." The blonde ignored her. "Please."

With a sigh, the champion did, "oui?"

"I know everyone thinks it is Harry's crush on Cho the one that put the task in jeopardy, but I just... Why would merpeople cancel the task over humans?"

"I do not know, 'Ermione. I am not one of them."

"No, you are not," conceded the brunette,"but Veelas, Merpeople and Seelies are cousins."

"So?"

Hazel eyes looked into blue ones, looking for the answer that the blonde refused to provide.

"Fleur... Was I your treasure?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what famous english detective inspired Krum's traits. He was always seen as thoughtful, shy and reserved. I wondered if then, maybe, he was much better at seeing things than other might have given him credit for.  
> I know I promised no bashing, but Percy was a neonazi in cannon. I do not feel like I could change that and stay truthful to his being.  
> Also, as fun fact, I named Murcus Merk, name I made up. Upon a reread of the correponding chapter, the name Murcus popped in the book, so I had to change it. I keep calling Madame Maxime "Maxine" as well, idk why. So don't be scared if either name shows up.


	8. Tastes (Like strawberry cheesecake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It stared with a whisper...
> 
> It is finally happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyp, had a bit of an issue with this chapter, had a general layout but it naturally progressed differently. I think the result is okay, though, so -._( -.- )_.-  
> 

Fleur was frozen in place, her features full of surprise but, believe it or not, she felt no dread.

"W'at makes you 'zink 'dat?"

Hermione averted her gaze, breaking the staring contest. "I don't know. I just, I don't buy Cho being that important to Harry so that she went above both his best friends, and I love him like a brother, but it is evident I could never compete with Ron. Even when they're mad at each other, I often feel like I am not like them. Not entirely, at least, like, maybe there are some parts of them that I will never be able to reach, while they simply freely share them with one another." The french put her arm around her mate's waist, noticing how her voice became strained the longer she talked. "And I don't think I could ever surpass your sister for you, I realize that, and it is dumb of me to assume otherwise, but..."

"But?" The veela pushed her further.

Hermione's hand reached for the one holding her together. "You have always treated me with such kindness."

"I 'it you wiz' a ball."

"Yeah, but that was once, some Fleur else," the brunette suddenly sported a massive grin, "you were saving me from a wasp."

"You as'ole."

Hermione laughed, untying the knot in her throat. "You have the most adorable way of insulting me."

"Seems like our places 'ave been reversed." The oldest girl stared at her friend, a smile adorning her features, "maybe I s'ould start scowli'g w'enever I see you."

Hermione's amusement vanished in a moment, and she laid her back down into the grass, not caring about the blanket getting wet nor other issues that might arise from it, like her hair becoming a crow's nest.

The Beauxbatons student immediately noticed, missing that sweet sun she could have sworn came from her destined's heart to hers.

"I didn't mean it, 'Ermione." She apologized.

The gryffindor sighed, "you are right. I have treated you horribly, I am aware of it, and I am not even sure why I did it. I think I just saw you and something in me cracked."

"It did?"

"Yeah..." Hermione blushed, "but it was probably my imagination, or my nose. That quaffle was quite hard. Why would you ever do that?"

"You woke me up." Fleur confessed.

Her mate was sent into giggles again, "okay, I will never talk to you again before you've a cup of tea, you night owl."

There was no easy way to explain that is not what she meant, at all. Instead, she changed topics. "I am more of an early bird, I'll 'ave you know."

"An avoidant bird."

The veela felt eyes on her, and laid down on her belly, staring at the most gorgeous being she could have wished for. "W'at does 'zat mean?"

"It means you have not answered my question yet."

"It is true, you woke me up."

"Fleur, you perfectly know what I mean."

Inquisitive gazel eyes would not leave her own. "Yes."

"Yes, what? You know what I mean? I was?" A slight movement, and their thighs were touching, Hermione close to her, looking forward to an answer that felt heavier than any burden Fleur had carried so far.

And, yet, there was a pull from her veela, a gentle voice saying it was okay, almost as annoyingly persistent as the Diggory boy had been that morning. Sooner or later, it had to come up. 

"Yes, you were." Fleur stopped for a second, swallowing, recomposing herself, "you are my treasure."

Hermione did not look surprised, despite her previous rant about how she probably wasn't, "why?"

The french realized the younger woman did not know much about veelas or what a veela caring about someone outside their family and flock meant. This gave her a chance to take it slowly, to explain everything, but it also made it harder in some other aspects. She would have to tread carefully. Her mate was so young, so innocent, still learning about how the magical world worked behind the curtains, behind all the sparks and its immaculate appearance.

"Because I ca'e about you."

Hermione saw truth in her eyes, a sincere adoration emanating from the one she hated not that long ago.

"I cannot read you, Fleur. It is like, you are a completely different planet." Fleur went to protest, but a hand stopped her. "It is not a bad thing, not at all. It makes me curious about how your brain works. How do you reach conclusions? What do you prioritize in life?"

"Mercy, 'Ermione." Was all the veela could say, swallowing. No one she had had any romantic interested in had ever stopped to wonder what was beyond her beauty, who she was. "I too' want to know you."

"We could do that, right?" the brunette seemed afraid of a negative answer, but she had no reason to be. Fleur could barely believe such a conversation was taking place between them. "Get to know each other?"

"Yes, I believe so."

* * *

Hermione might have been grounded, but even her freedom being restricted was certainly not enough to bring her down. She snook out every night, once the rest were sleeping, and met Fleur in their spot, where they talked about everything their minds drifted towards.

On many nights, they discussed S.P.E.W and how to free house elves: the gryffindor was radical, slavery had to be abolished right away; her friend had a more moderate opinion, as she argued that while she agreed that would be ideal, change took time and a more conciliatory rhetoric might bring the wizarding community to slowly change their views. Neither could agree with the other, but both of them could see how their counterpart had reached their position, and learnt from it.

On other nights, Fleur taught everything she could to Hermione, and the girl responded in kind. Turns out Beauxbaton's and Hogwarts' curriculums were similar in the subjects approached, but not in how they were taught, and, therefore, many spells they knew since ages ago were completely foreign to the other. The french taught their students to feel the magic they had deep within themselves, and move it to the wand and beyond it as if it was a part of themselves; the english were more focused on perfect form and pronunciation, on the more rational part of their brains commanding the wand with ownership. At first, it was extremely hard for Hermione to connect with her magical core, but Fleur was an excellent teacher, even if a bit distracting.

"Concentrate on a 'appy memory, 'Ermione."

"I thought we were trying a  _lumos_ and not a  _patronus_?"

"What is a  _patronus_ made of?"

And Hermione felt so silly she had not realized until then. "Light."

"Oui, so to learn to conjure one, you need to learn 'ow to use your lig't first, non?"

"I already know how to."

"No, you don't, you wish to illuminate your sur'oundings: you create light so your eyes can see, I am asking yo'r eyes to see so you can 'ave lig't." She explained, "so not from the outside in, but from the inside out."

But Hermione was just bothered by being treated like a child, and so she did her usual  _lumos_ , which resulted in Fleur disapproving and correcting her, touching her bare arm in an intimate manner, and, although the brunette knew it meant nothing, Hermione felt a current traveling through her body just before her wand's tip blinded them both. They both crawled on the ground, not able to see, holding each other as only anchor to the world until their sight returned.

"I am very sorry. Truly." The brunette had apologized, sheepishly.

"It was a fine lumos, noz'ing to apologize for, aldou' we do need to work on your control, yes?" The older girl had reassured her.

Likewise, Fleur seemed to have a difficult time grasping the theoretical concepts that made her method possible. Her _laissez-faire_  attitude towards magical movements and positions, in favour of more training in the magical aspect of it, made it hard for her to hold several spells at once, magic being poured in great quantities to each one of them, leaving her drained in no time. Her mate made sure to correct her stance, review her pronunciation of the terms that resulted in the different charms, and even taught the older girl a few she had been forced to learn through the years, her adventures with Harry being anything but fruitless, even if they did come with certain dangers.

Their beloved routine did not change once the ministry's owl arrived, confirming charges were being dropped, even if they did require the girl to present Percy with a sincere formal apology. She never wrote it, and no one seemed to care.

-

One night, Hermione showed Fleur the kitchens, and introduced her to the colourful elf that she had seen during the second task. His name was Dobby, and he had the most mismatched ensemble anyone had ever seen, despite what the french assumed were his best efforts.

When Fleur mentioned this to Hermione, the girl admitted she had never thought of it beyond it being part of the elf's eccentric personality, and so the next time they visited him, the french offered her help in helping him dress in a more wizarding fashion, which Dobby quickly rejected. However, he did seem keen on knowing how to dress as a muggle, for whatever reason, and so the blonde made an offer again, this time concerning going shopping with him in a muggle district, all paid by her. Hermione heavily opposed it, calling it reckless, but when the elf showed he knew how to give himself the appearance of a human child with a simple flick of his wrist, they all agreed to use one of their weekends off in such an endeavour, even if meant cancelling their previous plans.

When the english broke the news to Viktor, his face showed a slight trace of pain, but through that, he was not only understanding, but also wished them a fantastic trip, which they had. It was a long tiring day, for sure, and they received more than a couple of looks (a veela with a disguised elf were sure to attract eyes, even if said veela kept insisting no one had been staring at anyone but Hermione and her gorgeous face, something that made her blush to the tip of her ears. It was a blessing her mane kept them hidden most of the time, really), but, at the end, Dobby had a larger wardrobe and he sported the biggest grin while carrying three bags full of clothing, shoes and accessories in each arm. He practically glowed as they returned, his legs now covered in some stylish jeans, a big bright yellow sweater over his button up shirt ("what if 'e grows up, 'Ermione?"), and sneakers adorning his feet. Fleur kept reminding him to wash his clothing more often than he would with human's, as he refused to wear any kind of underwear that they attempted to purchase ("to cover what, Fleur?" "Do you really want to know?" "No, not really.").

It was at some point during the day, in between laughs and exasperated sighs over being dragged to yet another shop, that Hermione realised she had started to care deeply for the kind veela who always had a smile ready just for her and no one else.

When Viktor asked about their day, and Hermione only answered with an stammered apology as she wished him the best, he did not need to hear anything else.

"It's okay, Hermy-own-ninny." He had said. "'Vee art friends first."

And so he hugged her, and she smelt his cologne, knowing, despite his words, she might not have many other chances to. The thought of such an ending left her with a bitter taste, and so they ended up exchanging information, just in case any of them ever felt the need to contact the other for whatever reason.

She ran towards the owlery the moment they parted, and sent him a simple "hi", determined to keep his friendship in her life. He smiled upon receiving it in his walk towards the Durmstrang ship. She was a special girl, and he knew it; but so did Fleur, if his guess was right. In an odd way, he truly hoped it did work between the other champion and his crush.

* * *

Fleur's favourite part of the day were her moments with Hermione. Her training with the other veelas intensified, in a fruitless attempt to get the other girl out of her mind for even a short while. All day, she craved Hermione, much to Gabrielle's amusement, who had never outright told her so, but seemed to be aware of the identity of the mate who had awoken an alpha, and with it a flock. Even Élodie, who was loyal and respectful above any other traits, could barely contain her laughter whenever the Delacour elder lost her trail of thoughts in the middle of a sentence, simply because the gryffindor had entered her line of vision.

During meals, more than once their eyes would meet, and neither could help the small smile than came to them. It was unbelievable no one had noticed except for the flock, considering how obvious Fleur felt they were being. At times, she even considered going up to the gryffindor table and sitting with her mate, her veela craving the other girl's touch, but the more rational part of her kept her in check, determined not to mess up their relationship. If Hermione wanted her there, she would have to invite her or, at the very least confirm her friends knew about their friendship, which she had not done yet. This last point made the blonde both hopeful, because surely she would tell them about a simple friendship but might want to be more discreet with something more, something like whatever they were doing, and insecure, as it felt as though the other girl might, in a way, be keeping her out of her actual life, the public life that Fleur was not a part of.

Still, their current secrecy did not mean they avoided each other in public, not at all. They would find ways to cross paths, to steal a glance or two at the other girl. They would read near by in the library, and often sneak out even before sundown just to spend time with the other. The more the brunette learnt from the french, the more she seemed to like her, to want to be with her, and Fleur was in a similar conundrum. There were never enough hours in the day to be a model student, an alpha, a sister and a mate.

In one particularly hot spring day, Fleur was sitting down in the Great Hall, minding her own business and wondering whether it would be in bad taste to ask Dobby for Hogwarts' delicious strawberry cheesecake recipe, when the brunette showed up next to her table.

"Could I have some of that? Ron has devoured all of ours." She had asked.

"Oui, of cou'se. It is magnificent."

When Hermione reached over her with a plate in her hands, Fleur felt the press of their bodies together, and, unable to help herself, she did the most stupid thing ever. If asked, she would blame the veela, but really, it was just too much. Fleur pushed back, looking for more contact, and accidentally tripped Hermione, who fell with half her body on the table and the other half on Fleur.

* * *

Hermione was frozen in place. She knew the moment she got up, her face would have cake for everyone to see, her sweater covered in God knows what. She already heard a few laughs coming from the slytherin table and Ron's characteristic one as well, soon everyone would realize, whether she got up or did not, but she wanted to postpone it for at least a few seconds. The common room would probably be packed in no time, and everyone would see her trying to wash her clothes in the girl's bathroom. But she had no choice, she had to move. And she was about to, when the body beneath her suddenly stood and turned her around quickly, pressing Hermione's face against a stylish neck.

"Wha-?"

Fleur's hand made her stop, as the older girl cleaned her face with them and used her uniform to cover the mess that was her own. After a quick clean up of her hands using one of the poodles of water that the gryffindor had created in her fall, she grabbed Élodie's hat, untied her own ponytail, and used both items to get the unruly curly hair hidden from view.

"Come wiz' me."

And grabbing her hand, they ran out of the Great Hall, most of the students barely able to see anything before they were gone.

Instead of taking her to the toilet, or to the common room, Fleur guided her towards the Beauxbatons carriage, and hurried her through one of the first doors. Hermione was about to protest when she took a look around. There was a double bed in the middle of the room, a rat sleeping on it, a wardrobe next to a hanger on one of the corners and a desk with open books on it. The bed's sheets were white, with small blue flowers delimitating it, and the wooden floor had been painted in a periwinkle tone. The walls were white, as was the wardrobe and the desk, but the spot above the desk was covered in different pencil drawings: Gabrielle on a broom, the flock flying together, a fully transformed older veela with a playful glint in her eye, a human hand turning into a claw, two figures in a clearing staring at the sky, Hermione's face, Hermione in her Yule Ball attire, an aerial view of Hogwarts, two figures kissing, the small rodent sleeping on a book while holding a finger close to itself, a man behind a book, the back of a head full of wild curls, the Eiffel Tower, a secluded bay with rocky mountains surrounding it, waves crashing against a tiny boat, a sunset obscured by a short laughing figure, a detailed set of lips, popcorn on a theatre floor...

"You never told me you draw." Hermione said, still admiring the different sketches.

The blonde approached her from behind, holding clean jeans and a red hoodie, which she set on the desk. "It neve'g came up."

"Do you have more?"

"Oui," Fleur nodded, "but fi'st you should clean up."

The gryffindor looked down at the clothes, "is that for me?"

"Yes, and," the french walked towards a door near the wardrobe that the brunette had failed to notice, "'zis is my private _toilette_ , feel f'ree to use it."

Hermione knew it was a lot. "No, no" she shook her head, "it is too much."

But the blonde reached her in a three strides and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the bathroom. "I want you to. Use it, it's fine, really."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

* * *

Once the water started running, Fleur got out of her dirty uniform and changed into some shorts and a random t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. She laid down in her bed, Riccie quickly running towards the crook of her neck before falling back asleep.

 _"You're one lazy rat, aren't you?"_  

He really was. But she also loved sleeping, and so, despite how conscious she was of Hermione's state just a door away, she soon drifted off.

-

"Fleur," a hand shook her. "Fleur...?"

The french witch groaned, "non."

"Fleur, thanks for everything. I'll go then."

The voice was nice, warm and familiar. The french witch, still asleep, reached for it. Her hands found an arm.

"Good night, Fleur."

A kiss was pressed to her forehead, and, out of sheer habit, she pressed one kiss to each cheek she felt. Except, what she felt under the last one was not a cheek.

The other body pulled away, as if realizing the same thing, and Fleur finally woke enough to open her eyes. In front of her, stood a very shocked Hermione. The french veela felt dread in the back of her mind, a part of her desperate to fix her mistake. Well, mistakes, if the cheesecake incident counted as well. Another part of her felt blood pooling, the image in front of her innocent, but her reaction to seeing Hermione on her clothes was nothing but.

It definitely was not the time to be thinking about anything.

It certainly was not.

She should not.

She could not.

And then Hermione approached her and, very tentatively, pressed her lips to Fleur's again.

Fleur could not think about anything, but she did taste a bit of strawberry cheesecake when a tongue touched hers.

It was much more than just magnificent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my gorgeous wife, who won't read this because she is a Ronmione fan to the core, but supports me anyway and I love her to death.  
> Also, to Loren. Loren, god fucking dammit, stop taking me to IKEA. I am super broke because of our excursions together.


	10. Not a chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note originally written between chapters 8 and 9.

I feel like I owe you guys an explanation over how long it’s taking me to post the new chapter. I’ll take this one to the end of the fic when I finally get around to posting the other, but I thought I might as well give it to you:

1\. I am having some health issues. I just spent a couple of days in the hospital because I got an aggressive strain of the flu and my temperature wouldn’t go below 39°C, with average being over 40°C, reaching up to 41°C.

You almost surely get permanent brain damage at 42°C and very often results in death. I had mono when I was younger and reached that threshold, but I was lucky, so I went to avoid being there again. The doctors thought it was a dumb disease but I needed to stay anyway because of the temperatures I was reaching.

2\. More health issues. I’ve pretty bad eyesight, and we’ve been fighting with that since I was 7. I actually had my first eye surgery when I was 2, but that was for other reasons. In any case, I’ve been trying to get the doc’s approval for several other surgeries, as I’ve already been through too many and she’s reluctant to touch my eyes again but does agree I probably do need them.

3\. University life.

4\. Family stuff that is not my place to discuss.

i hope you understand, but no, I’m not abandoning this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at rocking-my-socks.tumblr.com


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